Fortitude
by G.M.Portraepic
Summary: Post TO 5x13: Even in his death, the key to Klaus Mikaelson having everything he has ever wanted, all at once, lies buried somewhere in the world. Can Caroline Forbes find it?
1. Chapter 1

**FORTITUDE**

* * *

1

* * *

There was supposed to be safety in something that hadn't begun.

The rings on her necklace felt heavy. _I was married and widowed on the same day._ The devastation had been insurmountable, it seemed – but somehow, she had done it. Her husband's choice had torn her apart, but Caroline had slowly stitched herself together with threads of acceptance. There had been a finality to Stefan's death, and a shattering truth that hadn't ever made her look back: he loved her, undoubtedly – but not enough to sacrifice his brother.

But something about Klaus' impending death warred within her. It wasn't right; no avoidable or forced death ever was. But he was _needed_ – he had a daughter who didn't deserve to be orphaned. He deserved the chance to live as the good man he had become; not disappear in some tragic redemption-sacrifice.

The threat of loss caught in her throat, and she paused mid-step. Turning back would be selfish; making him feel worse would do nothing. His choice was made, and she didn't have the right to convince him otherwise. _He's being a good person._

He was all she'd ever wanted him to be – _needed_ him to be. A smile whispered against her lips; a soft glow of pride in her chest.

She could feel his gaze on her – always had. In that moment, Klaus eyes bore through her back, reaching into her soul. _Stay,_ his aura cried. The ache pulled at her chest, the urge to turn and rush back. But she couldn't.

Her smile faded, her lips trembled. She was no stranger to death, but she never thought she'd have to live through his. Klaus Mikaelson was supposed to be immortal, undefeatable. She could hear his breath catching, hear the tears in his throat. She knew how much he loved her, and always had. As a vampire, one day that list of loved ones would be so few – but somehow, she'd always believed he would be the last standing.

And now he wouldn't be. There was no promise to hold onto when everything was dire; no one who would understand her so completely, in the way he always had.

For Klaus' peace of mind, she had made him believe his death wouldn't haunt her; that a goodbye would give them both closure. But he had been right; it was a myth. Because while they had years of history together, they had never begun. Only ever an _almost_ ; almost in love, almost together. That would haunt her most of all. And she knew, as she _felt_ the tears slipping down his cheeks – felt the unspoken words, his regret – that it would haunt him too.

Caroline strode out of the bar before she had to confront it, and didn't look back.

–.–

Inky bitumen and stark white paint flew beneath the rental car in a blur. It had been a few hours since her departure, but Caroline had never felt every minute more keenly than that evening. She could have flown – saved herself hours of travel. But she had needed to be on the road, in her own thoughts, and not suffocating in a crowd of strangers.

The solitary had done little to quell the war in her. The wall she had maintained so well fractured in the bar, splitting into fissures under hours of silence on the road. Some months after Stefan's death, she had constructed it out of survival: sleepless, teary nights had rendered her near-hollow. Loss had the ability to cripple her, as it had before – and although she hadn't feel the same urge to escape her humanity losing Stefan, she had been a shadow of her former self long after. Back then, as a mother with young girls, there was no room for all-consuming grief. Alaric needed her help parenting, and there was a school to be built. Life went on.

But for the first time, torn open by fresh death, she relived her agony: tears in another car, on another night. Guilt, sadness, and grief swarmed within her. Was it wrong that losing Klaus now, echoed her lost love back then? That she loved them both? Because she had, in her own way, always loved Klaus too. And it took knowing he would be gone, at that moment, to understand it. She had never been ready to be with him, and would now never have the chance.

The tears were silent first; slipping down her cheeks, down her neck, breaths rattled. But the echo of all losses soon took over, and the pain burst from her lips in sobs. Another death, another grave to mourn.

Why _hadn't_ she tried harder to stop him? Done more than tell Elijah, but _help_ him thwart Klaus' plans too? Why couldn't she have done more? A couple hundred miles away, a fifteen-year-old orphan now grieved her father, barely a couple of weeks after losing her mother. A child that _she_ had always especially looked out for – not because it was her obligation as headmistress, but because the girl was _his._ And it all could have been prevented; Klaus himself has said there were other options. His sacrifice – orphaning Hope – had been futile. Caroline would have given anything to save her parents; remembered so keenly the desperation in trying to find a cure for her mother, another way–

A sharp ache gripped her chest, as if something had been torn from it. Caroline couldn't breathe, paralysed as the awareness dawned on her.

 _He's gone._

Caroline jerked the wheel to her right, sending the rental car onto the shoulder of the road – but she hit the brakes too fast. The tyres scraped against the gravel, spinning out of control as she desperately attempted to right her course. Caroline barely had a moment to curse her lack of seatbelt before the vehicle skidded down onto greasy grass, its body swinging wildly out of control – before the bonnet collided with a trunk.

Caroline hurtled through the shattered windscreen.

–.–

He couldn't explain how he knew. It was as if, in the afterlife, his soul not only found loved ones already there – but somehow kept tabs on every life-force he was connected to on the living plane. But in that moment, a familiar soul seemed to be caught somewhere in between; the energy screamed in agony, torn between two dimensions.

He looked to Elijah, who was dancing slowly with Hayley by the bonfire – their heads bowed, eyes closed. At peace. His brother had followed him in death, but didn't need to concern himself now.

Something was very wrong.

He could _feel_ her, there. Her soul was like a beacon, sending out a distress signal.

He followed it.


	2. Chapter 2

**DISCLAIMER:** I don't own any characters, places or previously established narratives or canon. Only my writing.

* * *

 **2.**

* * *

It wasn't cold. Rather, almost as if the atmosphere was devoid of a temperature. Dense trees and messy shrubbery formed a wall around her, and it took Caroline a moment to recall why she was there. Minutes before, she had been behind the wheel of a car. And then the accident – thrust into the in-between.

"Caroline."

A man's voice broke through, shaking her disorientation. A voice Caroline never thought she would hear again – at least, not for centuries.

She whipped around, breath snagged in her throat. Forest-green eyes caught hers.

"Stefan." Caroline couldn't move, paralysed with disbelief.

"Hey, Care." His eyes filled with tears, lips spread into a smile. They moved towards one-another unanimously. In a blend of limbs and tears, they held onto each other.

Stefan cupped her face with his hands. "Are you alright?"

Caroline nodded, tearfully shaking her head. "Yeah. Just a car accident, I'll wake up–"

"I know," he murmured. "I was with you."

"You were?"

"I felt your pain," he responded, wiping the wetness from her cheeks. "I didn't want you to be alone."

"Watching over me, hey?" She smiled sadly, but her lips trembled when he nodded.

There was a pause of sorts – as if he were finding it difficult to formulate something. "I'm sorry you lost him too, Care," Stefan murmured eventually. "He was a better man. Never thought I'd say it, but it wasn't his time."

Caroline looked to the ground – attempting to still her tears, filled with guilt. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" He shook his head, and reached for her hand. "You're allowed to love him too, Care. I never wanted you to be alone."

Her heart swelled with his compassion, but she knew their time was short. "You're not alone, are you?"

He smiled gently. "I'm not – I have Lexi, some of my family. Your mother's there, too."

"At peace?" Caroline's voice caught in her throat, constricted by tears.

"She's so proud of you, Caroline," he comforted her. "We both are. We've seen everything you've done for those kids, and we're so proud." Her tears flowed uncontrollably, and he drew her into his arms. "I'm so sorry for leaving you."

"I know," she cried, pressing her face into his shoulder. "But you had to. And I forgive you. I understood – I always have."

Unbeknownst to her, something caught Stefan's gaze over her shoulder – and his head dipped against hers in a nod. "You have been so strong," he murmured, bringing her back to arm's length. "You'll be okay."

"Are you leaving?" She stiffened in panic, eyes desperate.

"I have to," he explained, gaze torn. "But we will see each other again one day. I promise."

"I don't want you to leave again." She shook her head repeatedly.

"A part of me is with you all the time." He reached for the rings on her necklace, fingers brushing against them – then over her heart. "But at least this time we get to say goodbye." He smiled softly, but it was broken. He reached out, fingers brushing against her cheek; committing the sensation to memory. "I will love you forever, Caroline."

Caroline nodded amidst sobs, embracing him again – kissing him gently between breaths. "I know. I will love you forever too."

And he was gone.

Caroline stumbled forward, hands passing through air – until they suddenly hit something. Someone. Another chest. She looked up, stunned, still shaking with emotion. "Klaus?"

His arms caught her – hand grasping her arm, other on her neck. "Caroline."

"What are you doing here?" she blubbered, head swaying back and forth as she attempted to grasp reality. It was too much.

"I felt you come here," he murmured, brushing her tears away, stroking her hair back. "Sensed your pain. What happened?"

"I felt you die," she blurted. "I had an accident. And then Stef–" Caroline looked about herself, lost. She cried harder.

Klaus' eyes clouded with sadness. "I know, I saw him."

"And now he's gone," she whispered, her chest rose and fell in heaves. "And you're gone–"

"I'm sorry," he apologised, eyes pooling.

"You should be! It wasn't supposed to be you too!" she snapped, hysteria and distress making her whole body shake. "There _was_ another way – Elijah wanted to help, to take it all. But you just _gave_ up–"

"I didn't just _give_ up," he interrupted, eyes flaring. "I had to. For Hope–"

"No, you know what?" Caroline countered, stepping back from him. "You were just _scared:_ scared of a world without Elijah, and parenting Hope alone." Her eyes narrowed, anger and frustration swallowing her sorrow. "But you wouldn't have been. You had your family, you had _me –_ I should have tried harder, should have gone behind your back–"

"And then I would have hated you!"

"I could live with that," she dismissed, "because at least you would have _lived,_ and Hope would have had a _father._ Now she's an orphan – when was that _ever_ a good plan?"

Klaus looked away, unable to meet her gaze. "She'll be better off without me. It's done now."

"No one is better off without their parent!" Caroline cried. A weight pulled at her chest; déjà vu; saying those words to another parent on the verge of deserting their child. "But you just _wanted_ to die, didn't you?"

"I didn't want to die!" he yelled, grabbing her at the shoulders, almost shaking her. Tears poured over his cheeks. "For the first time in my life, I truly wanted to _live,_ Caroline. Be a good father, person … be good to _you–"_

"Then why didn't you let anyone help?" She shook herself from his grasp. "There was another way. There was Elijah! He was happy to die in your place, to _atone_ and be with Hayley – he told me so! And now you're both dead, and there's no hope of ever _–"_

"But what if there was?" he interjected, eyes meeting hers.

Her mouth gaped, words dying at her lips. She stilled, and on exhale breathed, "What are you talking about?"

"Death is never the end." His mouth lifted, in spite of himself. "Not for us. I told you there is always another way."

A gust of wind blew through, and Caroline's hair picked up off her neck, her clothes ruffled. So did his. The strength of the gusts increased with every passing moment, and Klaus' face darkened with worry.

"You've been here too long," he realised, voice laced with warning. "Something is wrong."

Caroline frowned in confusion, shaking her head. "What are you talking about?"

""You're closer to death than you realise. Sweetheart, you need to wake up," Klaus pressed. As she stood bewildered, he leant in and kissed her forehead. " _Go!"_

"Klaus–" A force began to pull at her chest, sucking her backward. But she knew she couldn't resist it. Klaus began to fade – or perhaps it were she? But they began to drift away from one another, beckoned by their seperate dimensions.

Her mind clouded with darkness then, and she could see nothing.

–.–

Caroline's eyes shot open.

A searing pain gripped her chest – and she couldn't breathe. A branch had lodged into her ribcage, near her heart, and had likely punctured one of her lungs. Caroline rolled onto her back, and lifted a hand to pull it free – but fear shot through her at the sight of her limb: the tips of her fingers were grey with desiccation. She yanked the branch out in a panic, but the death in her fingers remained. Multiple points in her chest still stung and ached. _There must be shards._ She wouldn't be able to get them out herself – she needed help. Needed her phone.

Caroline reached for the tree nearby and grasped the trunk. With some effort, she dragged herself upright – but the movement proved fatal. The grey in her hands began to leak upwards, creeping along her fingers.

The smell of fuel and smoke burned in her nostrils as she clambered towards the car. Its front-end was mangled against the tree, the engine crumpled and hissing. She could see a spillage soaking the pine-needles beneath her feet and feared the worst: if the fuel lines had ruptured, the vehicle could combust. Without her phone, without _help_ , she would die. But if she didn't get to it quickly enough, she would be obliterated anyway.

Caroline tried the passenger door, but it was useless – damaged so severely, it was jammed shut. With every movement to get inside, death travelled up her arms, sucking the life from her veins and making her weak. Entering through a rear door instead, Caroline attempted to reach for her bag. Wedged between the two front seats, she threw an arm towards her tote on the floor on the passenger side – once, twice – attempting to hook her limp arm through it. Crying out with the effort, she managed to push her hand through the straps. She dragged it towards her, wriggled her body backwards. Losing her footing, Caroline tripped backwards – toppling from the car as the frame began to fill with black smoke.

Caroline staggered back into the ditch by the road and collapsed, contents of her bag spilling on the grass. She crawled on her forearms to her iPhone.

"Siri," she wheezed, "call Rebekah Mikaelson."

" _Calling Rebekah Mikaelson_ ," the device responded.

The dial sounded repeatedly.

 _Rebekah, please._

It ran its course, and she feared a voicemail.

Then–

"Hello?"

Caroline's eyes filled with tears of relief. "Rebekah," she rasped, "Thank god."

"What is it?"

"I need your help."

"I'm sure you're aware it's not the best time for favours, Caroline," Rebekah's voice was clipped, annoyed. "This better be life or death."

"I'm dying," the younger vampire coughed. "Please."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and some background noise – a man's voice. Marcel's?

Rebekah's voice returned, edged with alarm: "Where are you?"

* * *

 **A/N:** _Thank you so much to all those who have supported this fic already in the past week – either Following, giving it a Favourite or Reviewing. This story is for you, the Klaroliners – so I'm thrilled you're enjoying it!_


	3. Chapter 3

**3.**

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"Bloody hell," Rebekah hung up her phone and looked to Marcel. He felt her gaze and paused, hands on their suitcases.

"What is it?"

She closed her eyes and let out an unsteady breath. "I don't think I'm going to make the first flight." Her heart ached as his face fell.

"What could possibly be more important now?"

"A friend is in trouble."

" _Trouble_ is behind us––and not our problem anymore," Marcel urged.

"It's Caroline, Marcel," Rebekah countered. "She showed up for me when I needed her. For all of us––especially for Hope. She needs my help."

Anger set in Marcel's jaw, and he covered his mouth to mask the scowl.

"You can stay here," she negotiated. "Go up to the lounge, and before you know it I'll be back and we'll be on that plane after everyone else." She started scrolling for an app on her phone–– _Find My Friends._

He shook his head. "No, we do this together. Where is she?"

"No need for a locator spell in the twenty-first century," Rebekah muttered. Her device zeroed in. "Time to compel something fast."

– . –

Caroline wavered between blurred consciousness and the brink of emptiness. Flesh was caked under her nails from feeble attempts to release the wooden shards and debris from the decimated vehicle. The fibres scraped against her internals with each breath, searing like hot irons. Whispers from beyond the grave engulfed her ears. She tried to focus on one thing to relieve the pain: her girls, their warmth, smiles. Memories, projections.

 _"Mom, do you get tired of being alone?"_

Caroline turned her head––the pain evaporated, all traces of the disaster gone. There were only the soft cream walls of her childhood kitchen and the gentle, perceptive eyes of her brunette daughter.

"I'm not alone, Josie," she countered. "I have you and your sister. Your father, my friends. Why would you say that?"

"But not anyone else since Stefan."

Caroline's stomach dropped at her daughter's words, hands subconsciously rising to the rings resting at her neck.

"It's been a long time is all," Josie continued. "I just wonder if you ever get lonely." She rested her chin in her hands.

Caroline smiled softly. Immeasurable complexity from such innocence––one day, she would tell her everything. "My heart is so full with love for the two of you, and for everyone in my life." She moved around the counter, embracing her daughter around the shoulders. "I have everything I need; I don't have a reason to be lonely."

But suddenly the light began to fade, and Josie's eyes became despondent. Caroline could feel herself being sucked away, and she cried out for her daughter.

But there was only the cold of the earth beneath her, and the toxic clouds of smoke engulfing her vision. Once again, alone.

For minutes, or hours, she clung to the dull life-force throbbing through her veins.

Until a deafening sound swallowed everything.

–.–

The helicopter began its decent, and the wreckage came into focus. Rebekah took a sharp breath. The rental car below was a mangled, torched mess. It was a secluded rural road; no doubt so Caroline could have travelled at a much higher speed without drawing attention. Which was likely why the car had been obliterated when the accident occurred.

"Baby vampire," she reproved.

Marcel furrowed a brow. "Klaus didn't seem to think she was."

Rebekah's face pinched, and she signaled to their pilot to lower the aircraft. When they were safely down, she leapt from the cabin and blurred to the slumped heap of her friend. Caroline was near unconscious, her black clothes torn and soaked with blood.

"What the bloody hell happened to you?" Rebekah demanded, rolling her over.

"Klaus," Caroline wheezed.

Rebekah started, then bristled with hurt. "He's dead––"

"I saw him." Caroline's eyes rolled closed.

Rebekah couldn't elicit a further response. She gathered up the younger vampire and her phone, and rushed with her to the helicopter.

–.–

Caroline woke to a blanket of darkness. There was no solidity in her surrounds, and she had to suppose that they were moving somewhere––probably back to New Orleans. She knew she had slipped between planes again; there was an omnipresent coldness to the atmosphere around her, like saturation drained from a photograph. She looked about herself, but there was no beginning or end. Only unrelenting pain in the background, a ubiquitous alarm pulsing in her ears, and a distant sensation of warmth she couldn't reach.

"Hello?" Her call reverberated as though it were hitting a hundred walls.

Is this what the afterlife was truly like? Perhaps she had hallucinated the first time. She knew it was only a matter of time before the wood fibres consumed her heart. Perhaps they already had.

"Hello?" Her cry was more desperate. If there was just _anyone_ ––

" _Caroline_."

She whipped around. A porcelain orb emerged through the darkness, taking a humanoid shape. They grew closer, the clarity stronger. She saw piercing light eyes, chiseled features. Ones she had seen minutes, or hours before. Time seemed to be of little to no consequence here.

"Klaus." She trembled.

"Hello again, love."

"This is an illusion, right? I'm dying, and you're not here," she panicked. "But then why wouldn't I see my daughters? My––"

"This isn't an illusion," he murmured. "I'm here, Caroline. And you shouldn't be; you won't be for long."

"Did I really see you before? Stefan?"

He nodded, moving closer. "Yes."

"Am I dead?"

"No, sweetheart, not quite," he attempted to sooth. "But you're with Rebekah and Marcel now, and they're getting you help. You'll be fine."

She tried to process what he was saying, but she couldn't quell the overflow of emotion and trauma. The day had already been enough; she had done what she knew best, and smiled the entire day until her cheeks had hurt. And then a violent disruption, and being on the brink of death, _speaking_ to the dead––even if only temporary. It was too much.

"How did you find me again?" she mumbled.

A smile whispered against his lips. "I never left you, love. I stayed by your side, even if you couldn't see me."

Caroline burst into tears.

He embraced her, unable to help himself.

"Stay with me until it's over," she murmured, hoarse.

He drew back, just enough to look her in the eyes. "I'm not going anywhere."

–.–

Freya was settling into bed beside a slumbering Keelin when the front door slammed below. Her wife's eyes darted awake and met hers. The witch placed a coaxing hand on her arm.

"I've got this," she murmured. "You rest."

As Freya descended the staircase to the courtyard, she paused mid-step.

"Rebekah? I thought you were somewhere Europe-bound by now––"

"Sister, we need your help," her younger sibling responded.

Marcel emerged from behind, carrying someone––

"Caroline Forbes," Freya identified. "What happened?"

Rebekah shrugged. "Not sure. Last I knew she was with Klaus, before he ... Then she was en route back to Mystic Falls. She had a horrific accident, called me on the brink of death. Something isn't right––she's dipped in and out of consciousness the whole way here, and her body is slowly desiccating."

Marcel set the woman down on a nearby lounge. Freya moved to her side, brows furrowed. "What was the nature of the accident?"

"High speed into a tree," Rebekah explained. "The vehicle was obliterated, so was the tree."

Freya made quick work of examining Caroline's body. Any external incisions had healed, but there was strange movement beneath the skin of the torso and upper body; almost as it was trying to expel multiple shards, but couldn't. "Seems like there's fragments in her organs, possibly reaching her heart––which explains the desiccation," she deduced. "I can get them out, but I need some of my herbs; she'll have to regorge the ones in her stomach."

"And if she doesn't wake up?" Marcel folded his arms.

"We hope she does," Rebekah stated the obvious.

"She can't die from this, though," her fiancé assumed.

"Not true," Freya countered, heading to the stairs.

"I've heard of this before in vampires," Rebekah seconded. "When the immortal Silas possessed Klaus all those years ago, he had him convinced there were splinters of white-oak moving towards his heart. It had been an illusion, but the probability of something like that happening was still heard of." She knelt by Caroline's side, and brushed back some of her bloodied hair. "If Klaus was still alive, he'd kill us if anything happened to her."

Marcel rose an eyebrow. "He cared about her that much?"

Rebekah smiled sadly. "He loved her, for years. Well before Hope was born––" she stilled, hearing movement above. She felt her niece's presence before the girl had announced herself.

"What is going on?" Hope called from the balcony.

At the same moment, Freya descended from the opposite side of the courtyard. "Don't worry Hope," she responded, "go back to bed."

"No," the teenager refused. "I heard everything. Let me help––"

"I've got it covered," Freya soothed. "It's honestly okay."

"She's _my_ headmaster," Hope countered.

"And she'll still be here in the morning," Rebekah defused. "You can chat to her then when she's feeling better, I'm sure she'll appreciate it. But you've had enough to deal with for one day."

Hope's eyes welled. "I wish you all wouldn't talk to me like I'm a child." She spun back towards her room.

Freya's attention returned to Caroline. She rolled up the vampire's blouse again, and began to lather a herbal paste against it. Her lips vibrated with chants, and movement increased beneath the surface of the woman's skin, before some shards began to piece through.

–.–

Fragments of light broke through the dull atmosphere. Caroline looked to Klaus, and felt the strangest twist of regret. She wanted to live––and equally wanted him by her side.

"Whatever they're doing, it's working," she breathed.

Klaus' expression was unfathomable.

"This is it," she recognised in a whisper, unable to mask the devastation. "I'm never going to see you again."

He smiled sadly. "You will. But not for a very long time."

Caroline shook her head. "There's got to be another way. We could bring people back from The Other Side, even _Hell,_ so surely there's a––"

"Love," he quelled her, hand lifting to her cheek. "We're out of time."

Caroline's eyes fluttered closed––but resolve flooded through her body. " _In some forgotten language, in a city lost in lava_ ," she breathed. "That's where I'll start." She opened her eyes, and his own had glazed over with tears. "There's always a loophole. I'll find you."

A force began to draw her away from his grasp. She kissed his palm as it fell away, and he grasped at her fingertips desperately until she faded from view.

Then he was alone.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Thank you so much for all your support for the return of this story! It means so much. As we all know, reviews are fanfic writers' life-blood - please let me know what you think, or what you would like to see! Happy reading, G X

* * *

 **4.**

* * *

Leaving the spiritual plane was like being sucked through a vortex and hitting the ground at high velocity. Caroline woke with a winded gasp, quickly followed by bloody retching. As she cleared the remaining shards from her body, she felt a supportive hand on her back. She looked up to Rebekah's concerned gaze, and sighed with relief.

"Thank you," she whispered, smiling weakly.

"We couldn't lose three of you today," Rebekah murmured. "No more high-speed reckless driving for now. Just fly home next time."

Caroline couldn't muster the energy to look sheepish. She closed her eyes and nodded. "Noted."

"It's too late for her to go home in this state," Freya vetoed as she approached with a glass of B-Positive. Caroline accepted it with a grateful nod. Freya seemed to hesitate, before adding: "You can take the room with the en suite."

Rebekah's expression shifted to something Caroline couldn't fathom.

"No," the younger vampire began to protest. "It's not really necessary–"

"My brother would dagger me if he knew I'd tufted you out after what you've been through," Rebekah silenced. "And I couldn't let you out on the street in good conscience, looking the way you do. Take the room––privacy for a shower, and a good night's sleep." Both sisters helped Caroline up and guided her upstairs.

It wasn't an overly elaborate room, as Caroline had previously experienced when the Mikaelsons resided in Mystic Falls. Some render had come away from the walls, exposing original brick. The room was furnished with Georgian antiques. The large mahogany king bed was impeccably kempt––charcoal linen covers, crisp white Egyptian Cotton sheets. She spied an interior door, leading to a renovated bathroom. Rebekah had blurred away without Caroline noticing, and returned with a fresh bathroom set and some clothes. She set them down on the edge of the bed.

"Just pop whatever garments are salvageable outside your door and we'll have them washed for you," Rebekah instructed. "Help yourself to anything in the kitchen."

"Thank you." Caroline was almost lost for words. The Mikaelson hospitality was a far cry from the fables of years past.

"Are you alright for money? Your purse was lost to the fire."

Caroline blinked. "Yeah, I'll be okay." She waved her phone. "Everything is on here now anyway."

Rebekah nodded, and looked about the room with a gravity Caroline understood. It was his.

"I'm heading off now," she revealed, "...permanently." She caught Caroline's gaze with immeasurable grief. "Take care of our girl. We'll always be there for her in the background, but you and Alaric…" A sad smile ghosted on her lips, and both women started to fight tears. "I understand why Klaus left so much to you––perhaps a contingency for this moment. I think he knew that Hope would be okay, so long as she had that school––and had Alaric and yourself. He always had so much love and respect for you, Caroline."

Caroline's eyes spilled, and she looked away, staving a sob. "Rebekah, I'm so sorry––I wanted there to be another way. I told Elijah, thinking we could…" She covered her face with her hands, wiping it. They fell away. "I felt him go––that's when I lost control of the car," she whispered. "And I saw him, when I kept slipping back and forth. He stayed with me right up until I woke up. He's okay, and not alone." Caroline moved over to Rebekah and embraced her tightly. "We'll take care of Hope like she is our own," she vowed. "I promise."

When they parted, Rebekah brushed her tears, set her shoulders, and managed a smile. "Stay in touch. If you're ever abroad and need somewhere to stay, all you have to do is sing out. You're always welcome, to any of our homes."

"And I'm only a call away if you need a friend," Caroline offered.

Rebekah nodded––then she was gone.

Caroline closed her eyes a moment, took a settling breath. She could feel his energy in the room; no longer tumultuous and tortured as it had been when he was alive, but instead, steady and enveloping. _It's okay,_ it said. She began to pull the matted clothes from her body, until she was stripped to her underwear. There wasn't much that was salvageable––Caroline left it all in a pile and made for the bathroom with her towels.

The en suite was a tasteful blend between provincial and modern. Like the bedroom, they had kept the original brick exposed. There were also the original stone slabs underfoot, and a restored claw foot bath beneath a large French window––a nod to the previous bathroom in its heyday. Even the smallest details reminded Caroline of how much history this person had; how many lives they had lived before her, and how naïve she had been when younger. She moved over to the large vanity, where there was an assortment of products– _–_ she twisted the cap off some shampoo; scented scotch pine and cedarwood _. Earthy, like Klaus_. Caroline ran the bath and stripped her remaining garments. She stepped under the shower for a minute, removing the blood caked over her body, and quickly washing her hair. When she was finished, the bath had filled.

As Caroline stepped out onto the bathmat, she felt as though there were eyes on her. She spun around––to emptiness. "I know you're here," she called out softly, raising her arms to cover her breasts.

 _Beautiful._ The feeling coursed through her, and she closed her eyes. A sensation ghosted against her sides, her arms. For a moment, the embrace could have been real. She shook her head and dismissed it as fantasy. She rummaged about the products and found a jar with homemade pine bath salts in the vanity. "Of course, you have salts for stress relief," she chuckled in spite of the day. The energy shifted to amusement. Caroline dropped the salts in the water and swirled them about, before lowering herself into the heat. The scent and enveloping warmth was intoxicating––she let herself drift away with the sensation and felt each fibre of her muscles surrender.

Suddenly the warmth was a breeze sweeping against her skin. Her eyes were blinded by a white light that slowly blended into soft structures, objects. White linen curtains rustled in the wind, carrying the scent of fragrant hydrangeas, lavender, and the rich scent of evergreens. Summer, somewhere delightful. She was somewhere else, a kind of paradise.

Lips brushed against her neck, fingers ghosting against her shoulders. She knew it wasn't real. It couldn't be. She didn't want to open her eyes. _It's okay,_ his voice encouraged.

They fluttered open, and a gasp escaped her mouth. She lay in a clawfoot bath somewhere entirely different––with a vibrant garden beyond the French doors, and a deep blue lake at the foot of a slope beyond. Pastel villas dotted the deep green landscape backdrop. A light touch pulled her gaze in another direction.

She met striking blue eyes, and full lips pursed in amusement at her surprise.

"Klaus," she breathed, startled. "How is this possible? When we said goodbye before––"

"You opened your mind," he answered, though there was an element of question in his tone. "I...found a way in."

"But this isn't real." Her gaze dropped, and she moved her hand through the water. It felt just as real as it had a moment before. "A daydream. You're dead."

"Perhaps not physically," he murmured. "But I'm here. And I know you can feel me, as I stand beside you, in _my_ room."

Caroline's cheeks flushed, and she averted her gaze.

He sensed her embarrassment and veered differently: "Perhaps I haven't fully crossed over yet, I'm not sure. When have the rules of our world ever made sense?"

She reached out to him, rested her palm on his cheek. It felt _warm,_ charged with energy _. "_ How long will it last?"

"I don't know. But while we have time, I need you to do something for me."

She stared into the depths of his gaze, almost perpetually lost in him. "Anything," she whispered.

He drew her close, caressing her damp hair, lips against her ear. "In a loose floorboard beneath my bed, you will find a small oak chest. Inside, there is the last remaining grimoire of my mothers, a mahogany box, and a will. I need you to give the grimoire to Hope, the will to Freya, and the box and its contents are for you."

"Klaus, you don't have to––"

"Caroline please," he implored. "What I entrust to you, is yours to do with." He tried to smile, but it fell away. But she knew him and read the conflict in his eyes.

"Tell me," she whispered.

"Some of what you will find in your box, is to help with your daughters."

Caroline's heart dropped. "What about my girls?"

"I know you and Alaric fear their merge, and think it's inevitable," he revealed. "But there is a way to surmount it. There are some contacts and leads in there for you; people who can help. Amongst other things ... which I hope will help you along the way."

Caroline's throat tightened with emotion. "Thank you," she managed, hoarse between tears. "You know I'll take care of Hope."

"I heard," he murmured. "Perhaps, in another life…"

She could see it. Two families merged, three daughters. They simultaneously leant into one another––but before they could say anything more, their moment was gone.

–.–

Caroline woke to her own surroundings in cold water, alone. She climbed out and drew out the bath. Wrapping her towel about her body, she made straight for Klaus' bed. _If there's any chance any of this is real..._ she entertained. There was an auspicious Turkish rug on the floor by the left side of the bed; _where he slept_. She pulled it back and felt around for an unstable board. Sure enough, one gave.

Just as he had said: a small trunk rested inside. Her heart palpitated as she lifted the lid.

A grimoire.

A document.

A box.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Our chapters are getting bigger and bigger! More emotions this chapter, but this is the last of them before we jump head-on into our globe-trotting journey! Also, Fortitude's trailer has now dropped on YOUTUBE! You can it find under: _Klaus + Caroline | Fortitude [TO/Legacies AU] Trailer_. Thank you so much for all your support so far – reviews, follows, favourites! Please leave me a morsel of feedback at the end if you have time. Happy reading!**

* * *

 **5**

* * *

Caroline's fingers hovered over the trunk, almost unsure how to proceed. _What I entrust to you, is yours to do with,_ his words echoed. She set aside the two objects not meant for her and picked up the mahogany box. Viking runic had been etched into the surface; she vaguely recognised it from the cave they had discovered all those years ago: _Niklaus._ She released the clasp and raised the lid.

There was a heavy leather document pouch on top, covering the contents beneath. A yellowed page with quill script headed a collection of papers in varying shapes and sizes. _Gemini_ phrasing appeared consistently across all documents; _Gémeaux,_ Близнецы, tweelingen, _Gemini coventus,_ amongst others. There were also pages with photographs pinned to names, addresses and contact details from all over the globe. How many countries had Klaus been to during his years of separation from Hope and his family? Amongst his own grief and agendas, he had evidently also been seeing to this. It wasn't the sort of information someone collected, unless they had a vested interest. Something caught Caroline's eye: a contact card in Klaus' own handwriting. There was a year scrawled in the corner of the page with a note.

 _April 2014––contacted Emmeline and Lukas, syphon witches. Still living at below address in Bavaria, Germany._

Barely a month after Caroline had given birth, Klaus had started looking for a way to save her daughters.

Caroline's hand flew to her mouth, grief choking in her throat. The feeling she had fought for years swirled through body, expanding in every cell, emanating like its own form of electricity. More powerful than she had ever felt, all consuming.

 _Love.  
_  
And she could _feel_ him surrounding her, almost as if his essence were running through her veins. The intensity of it frightened her. When Stefan had died, she had just felt finality and peace. But it still felt like Klaus on the same plane, only a thin veil away. Almost close enough to touch.

Caroline looked down at the box and its remaining contents. _Go on,_ a voice urged in her mind. There were other small nostalgic objects from another life beneath––a graduation announcement; photographs of a dance at a ball, a girl in a prom dress of royal calibre; illustrations of a woman with bare shoulders and tousled hair with leaves in it, eyes alight. Caroline stared at the ghosts of herself and felt aching regret: he had never stopped loving her, and she could have gone to him for the last decade. There was also a collection of envelopes made out to her at various addresses, but she didn't know if she had the strength to read their contents yet. She found some keys at the bottom with tags inscribed with international addresses. As her fingers continued to rummage in the box, they caught a small velvet bag. She pulled at the cords and emptied the object onto her palm.

Her lips parted in a gasp. It was a stunning antique circular silver locket with a moonstone set in its centre, surrounded by Victorian floral frame and ornate etchings. There was something about it, though; it seemed to pulsate of its own accord. Curious, she felt around in the pouch again and found a small note:

 _You said you came to me once, seeking my protection for yourself, and your girls. In the event that I can't do that again, this is yours. – Klaus_

As she contemplated it, a breeze swept against her neck.

"How does it work?" she whispered aloud. When no audible response came, she felt disappointed. _Perhaps …_ She pulled the necklace over her head, and it settled against her sternum. Nothing.

Aware that she was still wrapped in nothing but a towel, Caroline closed the trunk, and took the nightclothes Rebekah had left for her. A simple grey nightie, not overly appropriate for late February weather. As a vampire, it wasn't if Caroline could get pneumonia, but it was more of a comfort principle after the day's events. She pulled it over her head, but still felt bare. There was a mahogany wardrobe and chest of drawers by the French windows. Caroline looked about herself, as if for permission. An amused sensation washed over her, drawing a blush out of her cheeks. She set her shoulders and walked over to open a drawer. She took a guess and pulled open the second level.

Plain black and grey long-sleeve tee-shirts.

"Very predictable fashion sense," she mused, taking out a charcoal coloured Henley. She pulled it over her head and stilled. Although the clothing was clean, for the briefest of moments she could smell his scent. It was something she was used to with loss; a fleeting moment, where the dead still had a physical presence. She shook her head to jolt the feeling, darted over to the opposite side of his bed and threw back the covers. He enveloped her, and the grief was doubly worse. "Not how I thought I would end up in your bed," she admitted aloud in a whisper, trying to chuckle––but it died at her lips. The tears burned in her eyes and cheeks, and she buried her nose into his pillow, inhaling him, sobbing until her pain gave way to sleep.

–.–

A tentative knock pulled Caroline from an exhausted, dreamless slumber.

The memory of yesterday's events settled as soreness in her chest. Caroline took a composing breath and sat up in bed.

"Come in," she called.

The door opened slowly, and a pair of light blue eyes peered within.

"Hope," Caroline welcomed, offering a gentle smile.

The teenager emerged with a pile of clothes. "How are you feeling?" Her eye contact broke as she looked about the room; her body began to tremble the slightest. She probably wouldn't have come inside for a very long time if there hadn't been a guest occupying it.

"I'm much better," Caroline murmured, but it felt like a lie. "I'm sorry about all the commotion I must have caused last night. That's the last thing you needed."

Hope shrugged, offering a half smile in return. "It's not your fault." She paused, as if stopping herself from speaking.

"What is it?" Caroline encouraged.

Hope's face pinched. "What … happened? I mean … Freya told me about the accident and splinters that were killing you. But I heard you saying something about my father."

It was Caroline's turn to hesitate. What was the best thing to say to the girl at that moment? How could she even explain what she experienced? "I … I think I was hallucinating. But I thought I saw him." It was a bad lie.

Hope's eyes narrowed. "I could hear you talking last night, in the bathroom–in _my Dad's_ bedroom––when you were _healed._ " She eyed Caroline over, and spied the tee-shirt. Her face clouded with anger. "What's your deal with my Dad? I know he chose to spend most of his last day with you, instead of us. What the hell makes you so special?"

Caroline was caught off guard. "Hope, I don't know how to––"

"Don't try that on me," she snapped.

"No," Caroline placated, taken aback. "I'm not trying anything. Your father and I have a long history, and he's one of my oldest friends––"

"Friends? That's ironic," Hope's voice dripped with bitterness, "considering he was the villain of Mystic Falls and you and your friends tried to kill him multiple times."

"Hope, that's not fair. It was old history, well before you were born. Your father and I were different people back then," Caroline defended as reasonably as possible. "But my story with him isn't in those books at school. I know he's your father, but the intimate details of that are my business."

"Was," she corrected, angry. "He's dead, remember? But somehow still, he has chosen to reach out to you when he had the chance. And not _me_. His _daughter._ "

Caroline felt and understood her hurt. She too had lost her mother and father too young. "Hope, I don't know how to explain how I saw him and spoke to him, or why it was me." She moved towards the girl slowly. "I understand why you would hate me right now, but I didn't have any control over what happened, and he wouldn't want––"

"You actually had a conversation with him?" Hope's face dropped, and she rushed over, dumping the clothes on the bed, accusatory: " _How_?"

"Hope, I don't know," Caroline defended, words slow and calm.

"What did he say?" Hope demanded.

Caroline didn't know how to even begin to explain––she gestured to the trunk by the bed.

"What's this?" Hope looked at the contents and met Caroline's gaze with fire. "You were _going_ through his stuff? _Stealing_? You think just because you were his _friend,_ that you could just take whatever you wanted?" Her eyes flared a dangerous amber. " _Who do you think you are?"_ she growled, allowing another nature to take over.

"Hope , I know you're in so much pain, but if you just let me explain––" Caroline tried to soothe, but they were both silenced by a vase flinging from a bedside table across the room, shattering against the floorboards.

Caroline's eyes widened with panic, and Hope halted. The teenager met her gaze.

"Was that you?" the vampire wheezed.

Hope's eyes settled to their normal blue, but her face had drained of colour. "No," she whispered, in shock.

Caroline exhaled a shaky breath, realising who it had been. _Please don't argue,_ his words pleaded beyond the grave, in distress. "He doesn't want us to argue," Caroline shared, voice small.

Hope's anger had evaporated into a stunned silence. "How would you know that?" she eventually asked.

Freya burst through the door. "Hope!" Her shout faded as she realised nothing was wrong––but her gaze quickly locked on Caroline. "What the _hell_ is going on?"

"Klaus," Caroline blurted, unsure how else to explain. "He came to me last night, after I left the other plane." She pointed to the floor. "He instructed me to find that trunk." She wrapped her arms about her body, trying to will the burn out of her cheeks as the inevitable memory of everything else flashed across her mind too. "He said Esther's last grimoire is for Hope, instructed me to give the will to you, and to keep the smaller box for myself––it has some things he left for me to help with my daughters. But I keep …hearing him."

Freya stared at Caroline blankly, deadpan. "That's not possible."

Caroline furrowed a brow, shrugging. "You tell me. You're the witches."

Freya's mouth pulled into a grimace as she considered Caroline. She noticed the new necklace hanging around the vampire's neck. "Where did you get that?"

Though she had no reason to be, Caroline felt ashamed. "He … left it for me."

"Just like he left you that tee-shirt?" Hope quipped.

Caroline wasn't easily irked––but she was beginning to feel so ostracised she couldn't control the tremble down her limbs.

Freya stomped over and reached for the pendant around Caroline's neck. Within a split-second, it seared the witch's hand and she started backwards. "What the hell––?" She studied the pendant for a moment, brows furrowed.

Caroline was doubly surprised. "I guess that's what it does then. He left me note explaining," she revealed, fingers brushing against the locket. She moved over to her box and retrieved the accompanying note, passing it to his sister. "He said it would protect me."

"Yeah," Freya conceded, reading the note, chewing her lip. She raised her hand and inspected it with caution. The pendant buzzed with energy against her hand. "That's one hell of a protection spell. I guess Rebekah was right."

"About what?" Hope interjected.

"About _her_." Freya nodded to Caroline, addressing her: "He trusted you ... loved you. But what I don't understand, is how you still have an open line of communication." She chewed her lip again, deep in thought. "Get dressed and meet me downstairs." She exited the room.

Caroline turned to Hope and drew a breath.

"You don't have to justify anything," the teenager pre-empted before she could speak, face softening. "He loved you too. There's no use me being jealous about that."

"No, I need you to know I do understand," Caroline murmured. "Your pain, that is. I lost my father when I was just a bit older than you––he made a choice to die too. And then my mom passed from cancer when I started college. I would have given _anything_ to speak to them again." She reached out to Hope and placed a gentle hand on her arm, relieved when the girl didn't recoil. "Your father meant so much to me. And I promised him I would look after you like you were my own. I'm not ever going to try to replace your parents, but please know I will always be there for you, in any way you need."

Hope's eyes spilled over, and she shrugged off Caroline's hand, tried averting her gaze. But just as Caroline thought Hope was turning to leave the room, the girl spun around and flung her arms about her.

Caroline cradled Klaus' daughter gently as she sobbed.

"I'm sorry," Hope coughed.

"You don't have anything to be sorry for," Caroline assured, stroking her hair. "None of this your fault. But it's going to be okay." She could feel Klaus surrounding them––his energy a tumultuous blend of love and grief. _I'm going to find a way to bring you back,_ she willed.


	6. Chapter 6

**6.**

* * *

After Hope had left Klaus' room, Caroline noticed the pile of clothes she had dropped. Dark denim jeans, a black long-sleeve, and a pale pink knit sweater… undoubtedly Hayley's. There was also a new pair of underwear and a brassiere––at some point that morning, the teenager had gone and bought them. Caroline felt a simultaneous wave of gratitude and pang of regret. Hope was a kind girl, and all the darkness that had shrouded her since birth wasn't fair. Just as it had been for Klaus, darkness and light would be a swinging pendulum for his daughter her entire life.

Caroline dressed and tidied anything she had disturbed in the bedroom, before descending to the courtyard. Not seeing Freya anywhere nearby, she concentrated her hearing.

"–– _nobody should be able to reach him though,"_ she heard the witch's sharp whispers, talking to a woman Caroline didn't recognise, " _not since the Other Side was destroyed. It just doesn't make sense."_

The vampire trailed the noise to a library.

Freya mulled over manuscripts spread on an old oak table.

A woman––whom Caroline assumed was Freya's wife––offered a smile as she moved to exit the room. "I'm Keelin," she confirmed, extending a hand as she passed.

"I thought as much," Caroline responded, grasping the hand in kind. "Caroline––"

"Don't worry," Keelin murmured. "I know. It seems you've cause quite the stir around here."

"Something the Mikaelson's are accustomed to," the vampire mused.

Keelin nodded. She let them be.

Caroline moved over to the table and scanned the pages––each in different languages, but also some in runic and forgotten scripts. Some, she recognised from Bonnie's grimoires, and others had featured in collections at The Salvatore School.

"Any ideas?" she asked.

The eldest Mikaelson seemed to grimace. "None that are possible."

In spite of the situation, Caroline smirked. "Somehow I feel like we've barely scratched the surface of what is possible. When I was Hope's age, vampires, witches and werewolves weren't real, either. And yet last night––" her smile fell, forlorn––"I was legitimately speaking to a dead man."

Freya rose an eyebrow, dubious. "And you're sure it wasn't a hallucination?"

Caroline's mouth set in a line, irked. "Would you like me to ask him right now?"

The witch didn't ridicule her––instead, pointed a finger in endorsement. "Yes, we should. I have a spell for it. Sit." She motioned to a nearby chair.

Caroline plonked obediently. "Like a séance?"

"Kind of." Freya's shoulders shuffled in an awkward shrug. She reached for an assortment of herbs and other essences––but most notably, a small vial of blood.

"Where is that from?" Caroline breathed––although she already knew the answer.

"We… had some as a contingency, especially when there wasn't any guarantee Hope's blood would heal werewolf bites." Freya spilled a drop into a stone bowl and crushed the ingredients together with a pestle.

 _How much did they have?_

"Close your eyes," Freya ordered. "Concentrate––focus on him, the _feeling_ of him." She began to murmur incantations, and the concoction in the bowl engulfed in flame.

It wasn't difficult for Caroline to draw on him; like a floodgate, when she opened that door in her mind, he consumed her. His scent, the glint in his eyes, the upward curve of his mouth, the gentleness of his touch––

Fingertips trailed against her neck, moved up to trace her jaw, and they ended with a palm flattening against her cheek. She opened her eyes to find the saturation of the room had changed, and that where Freya had stood only a moment ago had been replaced by a blurry outline and orb of light; as if the woman's soul had its own signature.

 _He_ stood before her––just as he had the night before. Almost flesh and blood.

"Klaus," she breathed.

But this time, he didn't speak––couldn't respond.

"Klaus?" she repeated loudly.

Still, he didn't utter a sound. He reached for the pendant hanging around her neck, his fingertips ghosting against the stone.

But then he was gone.

Caroline blinked, and shielded her eyes against the change in hue of the room.

Freya stared at her, blood drained from her face, unable to speak for a moment. "I saw him too," she finally managed.

"So, it's not just me." Caroline stood up and folded her arms across her chest, feeling as if she needed to hold in a pandemonium of emotions. "He just hasn't… passed on?"

"No," Freya corrected, unfathomable expressions milling across her face; in a way that Caroline couldn't place her at all. "He is here _because_ of you," she muttered, almost as if she couldn't fully verbalise it. "His soul is tethered to yours. It feels like he's…surrounding you, hovering _above_ you… like an aura, and extension of you."

The atmosphere of the room felt heavy, yet suffused with a strange kind of relief. Klaus wasn't _gone_ , which meant––

"We need to find a way to free him, so he can move on," Freya completed her thoughts.

Caroline started, blinking in surprise, and shook her head. "What are you talking about?"

"You can't just leave him like this," Klaus' sister reasoned. "You have to let him find peace."

"He is already _at peace_ ," Caroline snapped. "Same place my husband and mother are. I know that for a fact––I was _there._ "

Freya was quiet then, before continuing carefully: "It can't go on like this. We all have to be able to move on, especially Hope. This wouldn't be fair to anybody, we can't hold onto a ghost our whole lives––"

"Fair _how?_ " Caroline felt completely amiss; they had interpreted the situation differently. "If there is even the _slimmest_ chance we could use this loophole to find a way to bring him back, wouldn't you do it? _For_ Hope?" she demanded, incredulous. "So she could have a parent back? So she wouldn't have to be an _orphan_?"

" _Caroline_ ," Freya's voice shifted, low with warning.

"Don't 'Caroline' me _––_ Klaus is your _family._ You're telling me, that if the tables were turned, and there was a way to bring back one of you, he wouldn't have done _everything_ in his power to try?" Caroline countered, ignoring the darkness in Freya's eyes. For a moment, she didn't care that this woman was Klaus' newfound sister––he deserved better than this. "If there had been _any_ kind of way for me to bring back Stefan, or my mother, I wouldn't have _hesitated,_ but _you_ …" she trailed off, lost with incredulity and grief.

Her demeanour quickly shifted to that of question when she realised the witch had extended a palm in warning.

Caroline instinctively looked over her shoulder.

Hope teetered at the doorway, her face crumpling. She fled before either of the women could reach out to her.

Freya looked to Caroline in disappointment. "I think you need to leave," she ordered through grit teeth.

–.–

Caroline leant against a pillar outside The Compound with a huff.

She couldn't tell how far away the _Uber_ was––Keelin had ordered it for her––but it had to be close. She had tucked the box Klaus had given her against her chest, while her other arm was hooked through a hessian bag with her clothes from the day before... and his shirt. The whole experience felt entirely out of body. This time the previous day, he had been alive.

Although she couldn't see him anymore, Caroline felt Klaus' energy swirling about her like a whirlwind.

"I get it," she eventually acknowledged aloud, frustrated. "I let you down. I shouldn't have got upset."

 _I thought I had made it explicitly clear I didn't want any fighting,_ came the instantaneous response in her mind.

"Yeah, maybe you did," Caroline quipped aloud. "But you said nothing about whether I could fight _for_ you. And that was what I was doing."

Silence in her mind, then an unfathomable shift in emotion.

She almost smirked in spite of herself. _Of course I care that much,_ she thought.

A black SUV turned down the street and flashed their lights at her.

"There's no point me saying goodbye," she muttered, "if you're coming along for the ride."

"Good," called a tentative voice from behind. "Because I am."

Caroline whipped around to see Hope shifting a duffle over her shoulder.

"What are you doing?" the headmaster demanded.

"I thought it was obvious." The teenager shrugged and moved to the vehicle that had pulled up, opening the trunk and throwing in her bag.

Caroline furrowed a wary brow, eying the premises behind them; expecting the girl's aunt to storm out.

"They know," Hope interpreted. "I said going back to school would be the best thing for me, and they agreed." She opened the rear passenger door, and gestured for Caroline to climb aboard. "And you and I have work to do."

* * *

 _ **A/N:** And we're back! (Again, a bloody hiatus, sorry!) Let me know what you would like to see happen via reviews, or head over to my Tumblr **life-needs-epic** and drop me a line; this is for you, the Klaroline fans, so I'm very open to what you would like to see! I also post updates for the progress of this story over there._

 _Please leave me a morsel of feedback if you have time! As always, reviews are the life-blood of this story and motivate me to write!_


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